My Facade of Resting Bitch Face. Recovery

To the untrained eye I could be the epitome of resting bitch face who takes no shit and is in charge. I am loud, quick to respond, quicker to sass and with the mouth of a sailor. I am a very independent, tough, stubborn and, at times, even angry person. I’ve worked tirelessly for many years to accomplish such a façade that one could deem unfavorable or covetous- depending on who you are. I take pride in the fact I work to the point of exhaustion, try my damnedest to never rely on anyone or need anything because “I have it handled” and, “Just get out of my way, I’ll do it.”, is my constant mentality.

So what happens when I am faced with something, such as my eating disorder, which seems to be insurmountable? When the humbling experience of realizing that no, I really don’t “have it handled”, creeps into my mind slowly, then all at once. When my perfunctory routine that I had claimed as “living” in becomes so exhausting but comfortable simultaneously.

There are many times and many days that I have no faith in myself. I question my recovery, my own determination and my own willingness so many times. The mindset that has been with me for many years is one I still fight, being leery of anyone who tries to become too close; certain they will either fuck me over, or just want something. Opening up, being vulnerable, these things are more terrifying than just handling whatever life throws at me on my own.

I desperately want, yearn, and strive to be good enough in the eyes of my mother. To be good enough for her. Feel worthy in her eyes, and get credit and acknowledgement for my accomplishments; which I know will never happen. Indentured to her wishes and expectations at the age of 8 when my brother was born and the bar of perfectionism seemed to be raised higher. When I don’t even have confidence and faith in myself and my abilities, I am so thankful for the people in my life that do believe in me and my recovery efforts.

To the people in my life that are there for me, words cannot ever express the importance you play in my life. Through the peppy/happy times and the discouraging/disappointing times the love, help, support is staggering. I sit on the edge of my seat, waiting for everyone to concurrently stand up, pack their stuff and remove themselves from my life. As if my life is indistinguishable from a theater, waiting for the end where everyone gets up together, lining up to leave in a line and promenade their way out into the streets; finished. My mother would be in the very back of the line, sauntering her way towards the exit too. She would watch everyone leave, looking back towards me, as one last stab, so she could bring up the rear, reassured that I was left alone in the empty theater of my life.

That, has yet to happen though, even with my bitchy avail to those who don’t deserve it. I feel unworthy to those people in my life who do care, I always fall back on the one question, “Why do you care?” and “Why me?” It is an instantaneous jolt of guilt and love that I feel wash over me along with an immense amount of appreciation towards these people. (I’m babbling, and my writing is going downhill fast).

The ability to look someone in the face, be 100% honest, candid, hold nothing back, be unable to lie to them because it doesn’t feel right. It is one of the most nerve wracking and freeing things. Knowing that what I did isn’t beneficial to my recovery, having to fess up and be honest. Also knowing (and hoping), that they are concerned out of love and not just to reprimand me. Being understanding and not critical. Doesn’t mean it is easy to sit there and openly admit when you fuck up, but having that as an option with someone.

Sitting outside with me, eating something scary with me, the hugs, tears, laughs, stories. These are the things that have impacted my relationships with others, as well as aid in my recovery. From motherly figures to best friends to support teams and roommates; I love my space and my independent nature, but it still feels good to have someone there.

(There will be another entry about this soon, just way too tired)


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